


Straight On Till Morning

by clytemnestras



Series: Star Girls In Sweatpants [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clytemnestras/pseuds/clytemnestras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Is there a sign above my head saying jailbirds, please flirt here? </i><br/>Immediately follows Greet Me With Nights And Summer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight On Till Morning

It's cramped, except it's not, because she's lying in a king-sized bed and just over her shoulder is enough room to fill a crater. And yet she's sleeping (or not) with her face smushed up against the wall. It's sweet. It's sweaty. It's not entirely comfortable when she's known her bedmate for three hours.   
  
Three years, according to  _some people._    
  
Time travel makes a whole lot of no sense.   
  
She elbows River hard in the gut and half expects her to fly out of bed. Except she doesn't. She laughs, wraps her arms around Buffy and rolls them over so they're crushed even closer.   
  
"Was the floor really so much of a hardship for you?"   
  
A kiss is buried in the crook of her neck that sends tingles through the exhaustion and she sinks back slightly into the arms that cradle her. "Very much so; too much like prison, you see. I always snuggle up when given the choice."   
  
_Is there a sign above my head saying jailbirds, please flirt here?_  
  
It could be true. Could be a joke. She can't tell with River - everything is somehow false and honest at the same time. Every smile hides a frown and every tear a roar of laughter.   
  
She gets that. Worlds of messes somewhere hidden and that's entirely too deep for rambling at three AM. She yawns and tugs at the arms that encircle her waist even when she snuggles into them. She doesn't know what that says about her. Them. Anything, really.   
  
Not important. Sleep needed - especially true if the world's ending.   
  
_When is it not?_    
  
"Are you gonna let me sleep?" 

Sometimes time slips away when she's not paying attention, and she's not sure if she hears River's reply or imagines it, but the chuckled " _If your lucky_ " rings through her dreams.


End file.
